This is a disclaimer.

AN: As dictator of the spnonshots comm on lj, wellew demanded we write her some ep codas. Have at thee.


Sanctuary

You're more than half in earnest when you suggest you keep the SWAT outfits, just for fun, but Sam has a point when he says that if the Impala were ever to be searched, they'd be as much a give-away as the weapons in the trunk. Course, by then it would all be over anyway, but he seems really pissed about this latest misfortune, been wearing his infamous bitch-face since you left Milwaukee, so you don't say anything.

You know why he's angry, of course. Whatever chance he once had at normal, once this was all over, is now finally, irrevocably, gone because of your carelessness. You don't say anything, even though you probably should, to comfort him, because A) it would only make him worse, and B) – this one's the real kicker – part of you really isn't sorry.

Too much to ask for, a night's peace, a minute's rest, a place of safety. How long can one person go on like this?

It's getting late, and you need to find someplace to hide out in for a few days. That really won't be easy: motel clerks spend even more time watching television than ordinary people. One of them will recognise you. Inevitable. Murphy's Law, bad karma, the Fates, bad luck, call it what you will, you've got it.

But then your phone rings, and you jump a mile. Sam jerks out of his fitful doze in the passenger seat, staring.

"Bobby, to yell at us," you predict, picking up the phone, tapping a rhythm on the steering wheel with your other thumb, trying to pretend it's not a nervous habit, just a… habit.

"Yeah?"

"Dean, that you?"

For a moment, you can't place the woman's voice. Soft, low, worried. Then it hits you like a ton of bricks.

"Andrea?"

"Hi. Um, look, I hope you don't mind me calling but I saw the news yesterday night… well, Lucas saw the news actually…"

The next words out of her mouth, you're sure, are going to be something along the lines of 'delete my number and don't think to come near us again'.

You don't think you can bear to hear that.

"Andrea, I –"

"You should come up here," she interrupts, and you just gape.

"What?"

"Come up here," she repeats. "You're still in the state, aren't you? And it's obvious you're in trouble. I figure you need a place to hide for a while. Lucas would love to see you. And," here her voice takes on a teasing note, "I'd really love to know what kind of ghost could get you and Sam to rob a bank?"

"Shapeshifter," you say automatically. "It's a long story. Uh – Andrea, are you sure?"

She huffs. "You saved my life, Dean. Even more importantly, you saved my sons life. I think it's safe to say I know you better than those idiot cops on the TV. Turn that bloody car around and come up here. Now."

And she hangs up.

"Well?" Sam says, making you jump for the second time in ten minutes. You're so astonished, you'd almost forgotten he was there.

You passed the exit that would lead you to Lake Manitoc not half an hour ago, and the Impala turns smoothly around, roaring back the way you've just come.

"Invitation from an old friend, Sammy."

"Oh," is all he says, and within minutes, he's asleep again. You slam Zeppelin II into the tape deck and start to sing along as it starts up in the middle of Ramble On.